


Not a Creature was Stirring, not even a Mouse

by Annariel



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/Annariel
Summary: Ryan has been deployed at Christmas on a mission.





	Not a Creature was Stirring, not even a Mouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rain_sleet_snow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/gifts).



> Nicky Brown and Claudia's family are borrowed gratefully from fredbassett. You can read about him/them in [The Devil's Knell](https://fredbassett.livejournal.com/180069.html) and [Twelfth Night](https://fredbassett.livejournal.com/235173.html). 
> 
> Thanks also to fredbassett for beta-reading.

Claudia almost cursed when the phone rang. She'd picked the movie from her Netflix recommended list almost, but not quite, at random. It was the kind of thing she would never have watched a few years ago and the kind of thing she would still have told her friends wasn't really her sort of movie. However, clearly Tom's attempts to introduce her to the genre of movies where things blew up futuristically with alarming regularly had paid off - certainly enough that Netflix was now recommending her the damn things.

Claudia was finding that she quite liked this sort of movie and `Looper' was turning out to be one of the better sort. The plot was engagingly twisty-turny. The timey-wimeyness was perhaps a bit close to home but was fantastical enough she felt able to ignore it. There weren't so many explosions but there was plenty of mindless running and shooting and Bruce Willis was certainly aging well. Joseph Gordon-Levitt was a bit slick to be her type but he was easy enough on the eye and she wasn't feeling too picky. More to the point it was fast moving enough that her mind didn't have the time to wander and Looper had nothing whatsoever to do with Christmas.

Then the phone rang. She glanced down, saw it was her mother's number and regretfully hit the pause button.

"Hello, Mum!"

"Hello, darling!" Nessa Brown's ringing tones echoed through the speaker and Claudia had to move the phone away from her ear and dial down the volume.

"How's Aunty Caroline?" Claudia asked.

Aunty Caroline had moved to the States before Claudia was born. She had met her a couple of times at family reunions and stayed with her once on a holiday in California when she was at university. Caroline Havens lived in a sweeping Spanish style house in Silicon Valley with her husband, Hank, who had made a small fortune in tech, while Caroline had made a small fortune in marketing consultancy. While doing this they had somehow between them raised a large and boisterous family of cousins who Claudia had found a little intimidating. They were all immaculately dressed and effusively friendly with perfect white teeth. Claudia, used to a small family, had found it all a bit much.

Claudia's mother was still close to her sister however and when the bad news had come three weeks ago that Caroline had cancer and this was likely to be her last Christmas, there had never been any question that Inglestone Hall would be closed up for the season and Neil and Vanessa Brown would go to California. There had been a brief discussion about whether Claudia would go with them, but it was pretty obvious that her job couldn't spare her and while fond of her aunt in an abstract way, Claudia didn't feel a strong connection to the woman she barely knew.

"She has good days and bad days," Nessa Brown replied to Claudia's query. "I'm glad we came. Hank has been running about frantically trying to create the perfect family Christmas, while seeing to her every need. He's almost pathetically grateful to have someone else here to handle mundane things like buying milk and taking the dog for walks. I think we're all set though. Everything is ready for tomorrow. I've even managed to get the pair of them sat together in the living room watching some dreadful Children's movie, but it's making them laugh so I'm not complaining."

"That sounds good. I'm glad it was the right decision to go," Claudia said thankfully.

"But how are you dearest. All ready for tomorrow?"

"Pretty much. I took your suggestion and bought a bottle of Moet and Chandon for the Prestons. Still seems a little impersonal though."

"Darling, you don't know them that well, not really. They're not going to expect you to turn up with that special something they didn't even know they wanted, particularly under the circumstances."

The circumstances being Tom's sudden deployment to places unknown. Claudia suppressed the urge to sigh or tell her mother how depressed and anxious she actually was about the whole situation. She had known mysterious deployments came with the territory if you were involved with an SAS officer, but her little flat felt strange and echoing without his steady presence. She so badly wanted to go to Inglestone Hall and curl up in front of the yule log with a glass of brandy and be surrounded by people that loved her, but that wasn't an option and telling her mother how badly she wanted it would achieve nothing except to make her mother upset and anxious as well.

Claudia wasn't sure quite how Major and Mrs Preston had discovered she would be on her own for Christmas, though she suspected Tom had mentioned the circumstances and their plans for a quiet Christmas at home to the lads. The lads in turn, being horrific gossips, had no doubt mentioned it to the wives and girlfriends. When Tom was suddenly redeployed two weeks before Christmas vast unseen machinery had almost certainly swung into action and an invitation to spend Christmas day with the Prestons was issued in due course. It was, Claudia reminded herself sternly, a much better option than moping around at home feeling miserable.

Claudia realised that she had fallen silent and with an effort she rallied herself. "I know Mum. I'm just worrying, I suppose. After all, giving good gifts runs in the family."

Her mother laughed. "So it does. Speaking of which, I wouldn't be surprised if Nicky pays you a visit at some point. Give him our love if he does."

"I will. I've got sherry and mince pies ready just in case."

Claudia heard muffled talking in the background of the phone call. It sounded vaguely like one of her cousins.

"Oh darling, I have to go! The hordes have started to descend. We're hosting a meal here tonight and then Darlene and her husband are going to do the full Christmas at their place tomorrow. Neil! Neil! Have you put the mulled wine on?"

"Goodbye, Mum. Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas to you, too! I'll phone tomorrow though it will probably be late-ish your time."

Claudia dropped the phone back down on the cushion next to her. Since the film was paused anyway and it was Christmas Eve, she ambled into the kitchen and opened the fridge to pull out the bottle of Pinot Grigio that had been sitting there for the past week since the ARC Secret Santa. It wasn't a label she recognised and she strongly suspected her Santa had been Lester, if only because he was one of the few people who had refused to 'fess up which present was his and had instead wandered around the party looking vaguely smug and fending off all attempts at inquiry with a raised eyebrow and strategically deployed sarcasm. If it was from Lester then it was almost certainly a much nicer wine than one would normally get for the ten pound price limit on the Santa. Thankfully, posh wine or not, it also had a screw top which made it easier to feel you didn't have to down the whole thing in one sitting. Claudia had been avoiding alcohol since Tom had gone, afraid it would make her mope, but it _was_ Christmas Eve, and she felt she deserved a glass.

Claudia fished one of her nice glasses down from the shelf above the sink. It was a Dartington Crystal plain wine tasting glass and she poured herself a generous helping and stopped to admire the golden liquid swirling in the light. She sniffed the wine as she wandered back to the sofa pondering on whether she was really smelling freshly mown grass with a hint of lemon undertones or only imagining it because that was what it said on the label. The first sip was certainly nice enough, pleasantly fruity without being overpowering and just dry enough to be bracing without being sharp.

As she sat back down and reached for the remote, the doorbell went.

Claudia rolled her eyes and headed to the front door of her flat. She wasn't entirely surprised to find Nicky Brown there wearing a pair of faded jeans and a truly hideous jumper covered in a pattern of dancing penguins and reindeer.

"That jumper is appalling," she said, after she'd given him a large hug.

"I know. I thought Tom might like it."

"You know perfectly well he'd merely tolerate it," she pointed out. 

"Let's show it to him and see," Nicky said, his eyes twinkling and Claudia had a brief moment of wondering whether Tom would actually like the jumper. She had a suspicion that he would indeed have found it funny.

"Tom's not here."

Nicky paused a moment his head up as if listening. "No, he's not. I might have to look into that."

"For goodness sake, leave the man in peace. He's on the job and not everyone is as tolerant of your antics as Lester. He's almost certainly fine. He's a professional." Claudia felt that her last two sentences lacked a certain conviction, and her feeling was confirmed by the long thoughtful look Nicky shot her.

"I have sherry and mince pies," she said hurriedly, ushering him through into her living room and kitchen.

Nicky sat down in one of her armchairs looking way too large and colourful for the restrained pale silver fabric and bare wood look she had picked out for the room.

"You haven't decorated," he said.

Claudia felt herself flush and she moved to the kitchen to heat up the mince pies and pour the sherry.

"Well I'm not here tomorrow."

She popped two mince pies in the microwave and pulled down a small cut glass sherry glass that had belonged to her grandmother. Nicky would appreciate it.

When she got back into the living room a discrete curl of holly had been placed along the mantlepiece and a small silver tree, complete with LED lights and delicate red and green ornaments stood on the little table by the window. Claudia smiled to herself and brought the sherry and a mince pie over to where Nicky sat. 

"OK, you win. That does look better." She sat back down on the sofa and took a cautious bite out of her pie hoping the fruit inside hadn't overheated in the microwave.

"So I should think. You have to make an effort otherwise I shall think you are getting maudlin and feel the need to take steps."

He sipped the sherry and sighed appreciatively before taking a bite out of his mince pie.

"Home-made?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of, Professor Cutter bought lots into work. Apparently he cooks as a hobby." Claudia shook her head trying to imagine the chaos that must be Cutter's kitchen.

"He knows his mince pies. There's proper beef and suet in this."

Claudia nodded absently. "I've got some carrots as well. You can take them with you."

"You sure you don't want me to check in on Captain Ryan?"

"I'm sure. Why are you asking?"

"Well, no decorations, it's not like you to mope. There's more than a bit of magic and instinct in our family."

"I'm not moping. I'm merely naturally anxious," Claudia said with dignity. 

Nicky held up his hands. "If you say so."

He stood up, brushing flakes of pastry from his jumper, which had turned to a sombre dark green. He lent down to give her a farewell peck on the cheek and she had a waft of the smell of wood smoke and cinnamon.

"Look after yourself, Claudia."

"You too."

The house seemed smaller once he'd gone. The tiny lights on the miniature Christmas tree twinkled in a cheerful fashion. Claudia felt obscurely better about life and took another sip of her wine, before reaching for the remote once more.

* * *

Ryan cracked open his eyes, more from grim determination than any particular desire to do so. Everything hurt and he felt an overwhelming desire just to curl up and sleep whatever it was off. However, training and instinct combined warned him that that was probably a bad idea.

It was pitch black, but he could feel bitterly cold air at the edges of his face, around the sides of goggles and some kind of scarf. Outside then, and somewhere inhospitable. He sat up. He was wearing bulky Arctic clothing. There was probably a torch mounted somewhere. Memories started flooding in. He had a pretty good idea where he was and precisely how much trouble he was in.

He fumbled with his radio through the thick gloves he was wearing.

"Anybody copy?" he asked but wasn't surprised to hear only static in reply.

The operation had been a fubar from start to finish. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out reconnaissance to the new Russian military base on Wrangel Island. Ryan had been drafted in at the last minute thanks to an Arctic combat training course five years ago and a bout of 'flu that had removed the intended captain from the team. It was never easy taking charge of a new team, let alone as a last-minute substitution on a dangerous mission. Everyone was professional, but Ryan had felt the weight of their cautious looks and had seen the curl on the lip of Lieutenant Chadwick. Chadwick was his big problem; solid enough according to the file Ryan had seen, insofar as anyone in Special Forces was solid, but a sense of roiling resentment had come off him in waves. It made the hairs on the back of Ryan's neck stand on end and he'd had trouble forcing himself to turn his back on the man.

Even with the inauspicious start, the mission had gone south quicker than Ryan had expected. An unexpected gale shortly after they had landed trapped them in a hastily constructed snow shelter for 48 hours during which time two of the team developed high temperatures suggesting that it wasn't just Captain Abrams who had been infected by the 'flu. When the weather cleared enough to contemplate moving, Ryan surveyed the team and took the executive decision to abort the mission. The high-ups wouldn't be happy but they were two days behind schedule and two men down, with more likely to start showing symptoms soon if Ryan knew anything about disease transmission. Chadwick grumbled, but for the first time the rest of the team sided with Ryan. If he'd had a bit more time he could have worked with them, even Chadwick. They were good enough lads.

The evac point was the other side of Wrangel Island's central mountain chain and out onto the sea ice. They had a long and difficult trek through the polar night in front of them with the unpleasant prospect of needing to carry some of the team, if the 'flu got any worse.

They'd been high on a mountain pass, a sheer drop on one side of them when the polar bear attacked. Normally the small team of trained men would have been enough to see off the beast, but with two men borderline delirious, and Chadwick still low-key mutinous, matters were not as streamlined as they could have been. It didn't help that they had little warning before the hungry beast suddenly loomed out of the darkness into the pale light of their torches. Ryan remembered shooting, and then losing his footing, slipping and sliding down a slope, and then nothing.

He hoped fervently that the rest of the team had got away and were not polar bear food up at the top of the slope. Assuming they had survived, the next question was whether they were looking for Ryan. Leaving him behind would have gone against the grain, but if Ryan was honest with himself the team needed to press on to the evac point. Furthermore, Ryan frankly didn't trust Chadwick, now in charge, further than he could throw him. Chadwick had probably decided to continue on after the team had called Ryan's name a couple of times.

If Ryan was lucky, a small team might try to come back from the evac point to make search, but he doubted it. A lone man with no identification, albeit one in British Army issue kit, found dead at the foot of a mountain on Wrangel island, if he was ever found, would raise some Russian eyebrows but wouldn't cause an international incident. A small team of SAS soldiers caught wandering around a highly protected Russian nature reserve where a military base just happened to be located, would cause diplomatic chaos.

Ryan performed a mental check of his body. Lots of things ached but there wasn't anything excruciatingly painful. Cautiously he staggered to his feet. A wave of nausea delivered the news that he probably had concussion, but then he'd been unconscious so that was hardly a surprise. It felt like he'd pulled something in his left leg, but it was weight-bearing which was good. A deep breath told him he probably had a bruised or broken rib. Still, all things considered it could have been a lot worse. He decided to risk his torch. What it revealed was definitely not encouraging. He had apparently fallen off some kind of overhang at the side of the mountain into a snow drift which had cushioned the fall. He was in a narrow gully that was sheltered from the wind. The snow drift and the overhang had acted, he guessed, much like a makeshift igloo which explained why he could still feel his fingers and toes. The awkward question was whether to stay put or attempt to walk out. Neither prospect was good, but if he could find a way back up to the mountain pass then if a search party did come looking for him from the rendezvous point they would meet him half way and if they didn't he might still make the evac point in time.

Ryan shrugged mentally, took a bearing on his compass, and started to move.

An hour later he was beginning to regret his decision. The nausea had cleared up but left him with a pounding headache. His leg and his chest were slowing him down and tiring him out. The pain-killers he had taken weren't really helping. Snow had started to fall, making visibility with the torch virtually zero. He was struggling through powdery drifts that sapped his strength. Even worse the gully had opened out into a valley that was starting to veer away from the bearing he wanted to take and he had yet to find any way to get back up to the pass they had been on. He was desperately tired and only grim determination prevented him from stopping. If he stopped there, even if he managed to build a snow shelter for himself, he would never be found. 

Ryan wiped the snow off his goggles again, not that it made a huge difference, and fumbled with the light on his compass to check the bearing. He stood still in the snow panting, trying to will one of his feet to lift up and take the next step.

He closed his eyes. It was Christmas Eve and he wished for nothing more than to be in Claudia's little flat, snug and warm, with a beer and a mince pie.

He heard the faint sound of bells. He opened his eyes and strained his ears. He heard the bells again, a small tinkling sound clear above the wind. Hope surged in his chest. The noise was coming from somewhere behind him. He struggled around to face into the wind and looked upwards. There was a faint string of lights moving in the sky. It dipped down and moments later a massive elk, _megalocerus giganteus_ if Ryan recalled correctly, pulled up in front of him a large sleigh painted bright red behind it. Ryan shook his head.

A man in a bright green parka and matching saloupettes, trimmed with white fur, stepped off the sleigh. Merry, mischevious eyes twinkled above a neat brown beard.

"Nicky Brown, I don't fucking believe it," Ryan said with intense pleasure.

"Don't know why not," Nicky said, sounding cheerful though Ryan detected some strain in his voice. "You've been a perfectly good boy this year and if you will stand on my doorstep wishing as hard as that on Christmas Eve, I'm hardly going to fail to notice. Ho, ho, ho, by the way."

Ryan smiled in spite of himself. "Hardly on your doorstep, it's a good thousand miles to the North Pole from here and, anyway, you live in Slough."

"Details," Nicky said.

Ryan glanced down and was not disappointed to see his Arctic gear had turned a bright red. Nicky Brown was hard to characterise. He generally claimed to be Claudia's older brother. Ryan, frankly, had his doubts but it was a point of honour in the family not pass comment or to ask questions, so Ryan didn't.

He took a step towards the waiting sleigh and stumbled, his dodgy leg slipping in the snow. Before he could blink, Nicky had his arms around him. Moments later Ryan was in the sleigh, tucked under a bright green rug with silver and gold edging and sipping something warm that tasted a lot like a rather fine mulled wine.

After that, he thought he probably dozed off. There was a pleasant breeze, a sense of lightness, the jingle of bells and a deep voice occasionally saying, "Tally ho."

* * *

Claudia left the small twinkling lights on the Christmas tree to shine in the window, a little beacon in the darkness. She wasn't completely surprised to find her usual pyjamas had disappeared to be replaced by a pale blue fleece set with a penguin on the front. She wriggled into them, turned out the light and crept under the covers.

She thought vaguely about where Nicky might be, studiously didn't wonder where Ryan might be, and felt herself drifting quietly off to sleep.

Then there was a loud crash and some swearing on an inventively Christmassy theme. Claudia was fully awake in an instant her hand reaching for the bedside lamp. Her room looked perfectly normal. However, she could hear the sound of voices shushing each other somewhere outside her room. She padded quietly over to her bedroom door and opened it a crack.

In the hallway stood Nicky and Ryan, in matching bright blue parkas. Claudia felt a wave of relief flood through her, and a massive grin settling on her face. Despite that, she threw open the door and tried to look as stern as a woman could in penguin pyjamas.

"What happened to not a creature was stirring not even a mouse?" she demanded.

"When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter," Nicky quoted back at her. "Merry Christmas, it looks like you have been an exceptionally good girl."

At which point Claudia couldn't contain her cry of joy any longer and she ran forward to envelope Ryan in a hug.

He squawked loudly, "Broken rib!" and Claudia let him go in a hurry and contented herself with a long kiss.

"How are your single malt supplies?" Nicky asked.

"Extensive, as well you know," Claudia said.

"Right! Living room then!" said Nicky.

"Don't we need to get you to A&E?" Claudia asked in concern as Ryan hobbled towards the living room door.

"Sod A&E. I'll see the duty medic in the morning," Ryan said and sank into the sofa with a sigh.

A large beer and a warm mince pie appeared on the coffee table. Nicky wandered over to the cupboard under the TV that Claudia referred to as her drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Laphroaig and a novelty tumbler with a faded picture of a reindeer on it that she'd acquired in a Christmas market at some point. Recognising defeat, Claudia went to the fridge and poured another glass of Pinot Grigio, then moved over to curl up next to Ryan on the sofa.

"Should I ask where you found him?" Claudia asked Nicky.

Nicky shrugged. "The frozen north, where else?"

Ryan sighed. "I've no idea how I'm going to explain my reappearance."

"An anomaly opened and you followed it through to Hyde Park where a friendly taxi driver picked you up," Nicky waved an expansive hand and, just for a moment, Claudia thought she saw a glimmer of stardust.

"That's still somewhat complicated and classified," Claudia said.

"Maybe but the people who will have to fill in the forms are the same people that sent Ryan on that damn-fool assignment so they can take their coal and fill in those forms on Christmas Day like they're enjoying it. Paperwork is already in their in-trays." There was a grim satisfaction in Nicky's tone.

Ryan took a sip of his beer. The mince pie had already been eaten. Claudia took mental inventory of her fridge, just as a plate heaped with what looked like pigs-in-blankets and mash appeared on the coffee table.

Ryan grinned. "You, sir, are a fine gentleman."

He grabbed the food. Claudia contented herself watching him in silence as he ate, but she was cataloging the bruises on his face and knuckles. She didn't know what they weren't telling her and knew better than to ask but she was mentally filing this as `could have been an awful lot worse'. She'd probably need to get Nicky a whole hamper from Fortnum and Mason next Christmas.

Nicky made a dismissive sound. "Anything for my favourite sister."

"I'm your only sister and it's not polite to read minds."

"Oi!" Ryan said indistinctly around a mouthful of sausage and gravy and he waved his fork pointedly between the two of them.

Nicky chuckled and downed his whisky in one gulp. "I had better be going, places to be, presents to deliver and all that."

Claudia stood up and gave him an extra big hug.

"Merry Christmas, Nicky."

"Merry Christmas, Claudia."

If anything, he made even more noise getting out of the flat than he had getting in. Claudia went to the window and stood by the Christmas tree. She was just in time to see the huge elk, sleigh in tow, glide past. Nicky was standing precariously on the back waving a bobble hat.

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"


End file.
